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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328097">Dog Tags</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButteryOptimisticPeanut/pseuds/ButteryOptimisticPeanut'>ButteryOptimisticPeanut</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Breakup, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Dog Tags, Hopeful Ending, Loss, M/M, New Beginnings, Oneshot, Sad, Sam Wilson is a Gift, old steve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:15:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButteryOptimisticPeanut/pseuds/ButteryOptimisticPeanut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I suppose I stole them, that’s what Sam would call it. Stealing. But they felt like they were mine to take. That day, the only time I went to see Steve, I swiped them when he was distracted by the nurse helping him out of bed. It had been an impulse, but it had felt so <i> right</i>. These dog tags don’t belong to the Steve that has lived his perfect civilian life, the Steve that needs help getting out of bed. No, they belonged to my Steve. Steve the soldier, the endless fighter, the man who would look over at me through the bullets hailing down around us, and smile.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dog Tags</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckyplums/gifts">buckyplums</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a oneshot based on the song Bracelet by Lauv. I wrote it a while ago for my friend Alyssa, but decided to share it on here as well.<br/>Please don't be scared of leaving a comment or kudos! Those always make my day!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They jingle as I walk up the steps to the park, I hid them under my shirt but there’s no masking the sound that they make. Even though the sound could clue others in, it -together with the feel of the cold metal on my skin- reassures me. </p><p>Yesterday, it had been fine. At least that’s what I convinced myself as I tried to suppress the sinking feeling in my gut and ignore that gaping hole in my chest. On the days I managed to, I could pretend that the old man was enough to replace him, to replace Steve.</p><p>This morning the sun had illuminated a golden head of hair and a rich laugh had filled my ears. Then I woke up to a grey apartment and a clouded day. And now, I’m walking in the rain with the sound of his jingling dog tags. My chest aches, my eyes burn, and I don’t feel fine. </p><p>The park is empty. I imagine how full the playground could be on sunny days. How the air will be filled with voices, light-hearted and rich with love and joy. It’s a summer image that’s hard to keep up in this rain. all I can see is how wet it all is, how bleak and how empty. The trees are dark shadows hugging the playground, their branches loom like creeping fingers as the wind pulls at them.</p><p>I sit down on one of the swings, looking up at the fingers of darkness reaching out to me. The dog tags stop jingling now that I’ve stopped moving. I touch them gently through my shirt. Steve’s next to mine.</p><p>I suppose I stole them, that’s what Sam would call it. Stealing. But they felt like they were mine to take. That day, that one time I went to see Steve, I swiped them when he was distracted by the nurse helping him out of bed. It had been an impulse, but had felt so <i> right</i>. These dog tags don’t belong to the Steve that has lived his perfect civilian life, the Steve that needs help getting out of bed. No, they belonged to my Steve. Steve the soldier, the endless fighter, the man who used to look over at me through the bullets hailing down around us, and smile. </p><p>It is only logical that I should inherit them, now that there’s nothing of that Steve left.</p><p>My hand tighten around them, as if it could make Steve’s spirit linger in this world a bit longer. A piece of his soul, that if held on to strongly enough, might not leave me. I’m not ready to let him go yet.</p><p>I try not to look at it, but my eyes find the spot regardless. To anyone else, that patch of grass underneath that particular tree wouldn’t stand out at all. But as I look at it, it’s too familiar. I remember the tree shading us from the sun, Steve perched up on that root and me stretched out beneath it. I almost hear the comforting sound of pencil scraping on paper over the rain hailing down around me. I remember days spent there, Steve sketching away. I’m still hesitant to admit how much I liked that, all of Steve’s attention on me as he drew me with his tongue peeking out of his mouth. </p><p>The second Steve had disappeared, I realized for the first time how much I liked his attention on me. An ache had welled up in me, taking over my entire body. An ache of regret. There had been a grim smile playing on my face as Sam panicked. I knew he was gone, we had talked about it. But as I saw Sam panicking, it suddenly hit me that I was allowed to feel too in this scenario. Steve leaving wasn’t only about Steve and his happiness. It was also about Sam, who hadn’t seen this coming. And as it turned out, it was also about me having to live without him, on my own, in this time. But all this had come to me too late, and now there’s a hole in my chest being filled with regret. Why did I say nothing but goodbye?</p><p>
  <i> It’s going to be okay, Buck. </i>
</p><p>As if he knew it wouldn’t. I knew it wouldn't, I didn’t tell him though. I didn’t ask him to stay, I didn’t tell him it would hurt if he left. I just said goodbye. Because this was a moment I had been waiting for my whole life. I had been waiting for Steve to leave me, and when the day came I naturally accepted it. But he wasn’t taken away by sickness or by war, but by his own longing to a time without me.</p><p>I don’t know what I wish had happened. I don’t think I could have made him stay; I could never keep Steve from his happiness. I guess I just wish I could have given Steve what he was looking for, I wish I had been enough. Like Steve was for me. </p><p>Now, the dog tags might not be enough, but they’re all I have. So I’ll wear them until I don’t need them anymore. </p><p>I get up from the swing and leave the playground and our spot under the tree behind me. When I get home, Sam’s in the living room waiting up for me. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a reassuring smile as he closes his book and turns off the light.</p><p>I rummage about, getting ready for bed. When I pass Sam’s room, his door is ajar, the light forms a stripe of yellow light on the carpet of the hall.  I peek inside to bid him goodnight, but falter in my movement when I see Sam bowed over Riley’s picture. There’s a pair of dog tags dangling from his hand. I close the door soundlessly to grant him his privacy.</p><p>Maybe Sam would understand after all.</p>
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